It is often the unnamed stranger who points the direction and who moves the story forward. And it is upon their shoulders that history turns.

Perhaps forgiveness comes because Esau needs it.  He wants to rewrite his story.  He wants to let go of his justified anger and his understandable resentment.  He wants to heal his own pain.  Esau becomes our unexpected and unlikely hero.

I am wondering how we might reorient our lives and reclaim our language’s direction. Instead of asking such nonchalant questions such as “How are you?” and expecting only the perfunctory response of “I’m ok,” we should ask, “Which way are you heading? What are your dreams?”

The words we use do matter. They shape our feelings. They influence our actions—or our inaction. They can do as they did for Esau and push him more and more inward or they can help us look outward, away from our own wants and needs to those who actually need more.

No matter how big or small we say thank you. Now matter how much or how little, we say, “Baruch.” This is the essence of the tradition’s message. It is also the thrust of our Thanksgiving holiday. Give thanks for the food. Give thanks for family. Give thanks for friends.

We struggle to live up to our matriarch’s example. We rarely put in extra effort when it comes to other people’s feelings. Ideas so important to our ancestors, like dignity and honor, feel outdated. Institutions that were once unquestioned are under attack.